Please take us to Home
by OakwoodOuroboros
Summary: In the middle of a cold, harsh December, three individuals are forced onto the streets, fleeing their lives, up to then only filled with pain and misery. By a stroke of luck that none of them would ever quite comprehend, they meet and decide to stick together, for the better and for the worst, as they journey across the country in search for a place to call home.
1. Chapter 1: Pilot (Urban)

**Warning:** **this chapter contains mentions of prostitution, heavy neglect and domestic abuse, and mentions of motor handicap and drug use. I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin, and am using the universe and characters from the franchise for a non-commercial work of fanfiction. I don't own the story cover either, which is also being used non-commercially.**

* * *

"What is the meaning of this?"

He tugged at her arm a little more, but she wouldn't budge.

"Come on, babe, we're bringing you to a new place. You'll get a better pay and everything, even your own room if you're lucky. And it's only over in the next town, don't worry about…"

But she had twisted his elbow around in such a way that he had to let go, and she tore into him with her icicle gaze.

"You're selling me to your brother, aren't you? He doesn't have enough girls, and we don't bring in enough cash. I knew it. I'm not living under the same roof as that abusive bastard. I'm leaving."

She turned on her heels and strode off to get some clothes. She could hear her boss smirk from behind her, before calling out:

"You belong in a brothel, babe! You can't make your own as a kid out there, you'll be arrested or enrolled or raped or something!"

She didn't care anymore, even if she did have a roof and good food here.

"The streets are tough in December, and I'm definitely not paying you if you're leaving me like that without notice!"

The other girls had peeked their heads out of some of the rooms, curious of the ruckus that was uncommon at such an hour. The short blonde didn't spare them a glance, simply pulling on a long-sleeved shirt and her coat, then shoving all her other belongings in her suitcase.

"ANNABEL!"

She looked around, and saw the door blocked by her hulky boss. She quickly closed the plastic case, getting up slowly, the handle held tightly in her white-knuckled hand.

"I won't let you go without a fight."

"Fair enough."

To all the people looking in on the scene, it would have seemed that she had simply brushed past the man. But when she did so, he went flying as if he were nothing more than a sackful of feathers, and slammed into the opposite wall. He slid down the cement, leaving a bright red trail of blood from where his head had hit the artificial stone, hard. He was knocked out cold.

A deathly silence and the stares of a dozen terrified young girls followed Annie out, the only sound being the clicking of her four-inch heels on the dirty floorboards.

* * *

This time, she was going to kill him. He was certain of it. He hid behind the bathroom door, silently praying for her to not find him. It was the only place that could hide him entirely, and that in her crazed state, she might not look for him. He could hear her stumble around, calling for him in a sickly-sweet voice that she only took when she really, _really_ wanted to hurt him.

He shivered, the pad of her feet getting closer, her whispered threats slowly becoming distinguishable words.

"I love you, sweetie, my sparrow, you _fucking freak of nature_."

His heart was hammering against his chest, and only the certainty that flight was not an option kept him put. When the handle to the bathroom door clicked, he was tempted to pick up the cheap plastic toilet seat and use it as a weapon, if he must, but he didn't in the end. He was too weak to fight back anyway.

"Aww, there you were, my beautiful son. Don't be shy, come closer."

But she already was close. Too close. He looked down at her, his back pressed against the wall, staring at the broken glass wine-bottle she held in her left hand. This was not good.

"Don't be afraid, Bertie-Wirtie, you only _RUINED MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE!_ "

 _DUCK._

His inner voice saved his life that day. The piece of glass was as sharp as a razor, and instead of biting deeply into his jugular as it had first intended to, it only went through skin and flesh without hitting anything major.

The woman screamed in frustration, and he made a snap decision, listening to his inner voice that had been such a good advisor.

 _RUN._

And he did. Feet pounding as heavily as his pulse, he ran. He skidded out the apartment door, his mother hot on his heels. He took the stairs, jumping down them four at a time, holding a hand to his wound and feeling dizzy from exhaustion already. Despite being a head shorter than he was, she had several pounds and much more energy to her advantage. When he finally got to the ground floor, he could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck, she was so close. He managed to slam the main building's door in her face at the last minute though, snow coming up to his ankles and numbing his toes nearly instantly. He ran without stopping, until he could run no more. It was only once he had stopped panting, doubled over and with sweat and blood pouring off of him, that he realised that he didn't recognise this place at all.

He was lost, barefoot, and alone in the middle of harsh, cold December.

* * *

Just as expected, his brother was yet again hunched over his screen. Colourful lights played out across his face, reflected on his waxy skin from the screen. The blond looked at him for maybe half a minute, but in that time his older sibling hadn't blinked once. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and some smell mixed with the incense in the air that definitely _wasn't_ some healing drug.

"I'm leaving."

He nodded in answer to that, but nothing more. Sighing, the younger of the two men made his way across the room, his heavy boots crushing a syringe and a game box as he went.

When he got close enough to his brother, he wrenched his shoulders around, pulling him away from the mouse and the keyboard. His reaction, or lack of, scared him. If he had done that a few months ago, he would have been given an angry look, maybe even a smack, but his eyes remained blank and unfocused.

"I'm leaving, and when I get back, I want you to have recovered and started walking again. Can you do that?"

He looked down at his lower limbs, one flesh, one metal, and for a first time in a while, a spark of recognition ignited in his eyes. It was the only acknowledgement that he got before they turned back to being as opaque as his mind, but maybe there had been something there. Maybe it was the beginning of the healing process.

That was partly why he was going: to not, yet again, be disappointed by the lies he told himself every single time a ray of hope shined through the solid grey clouds. Maybe, once he had grown into his manhood, he would come back to see his brother healthy and full of life again. Or dead, after years of wasting away. It was either to be one or the other.

He walked out of the room without looking back. He put on his coat and his scarf, picked up a heavy leather shoulder-bag that held everything he would need, then walked out the door, and unbeknownst to him, never to go through it again.

* * *

 _The Walled Kingdom used to be contained by the largest Holy Wall, raised against attacks from the barbarian lands outside. It has now been over 2000 years since all the lands outside of them have been conquered, forming the One Land of the Kingdom. The capital of the One Kingdom is named Sina, and is contained in the innermost Holy Wall. It is the largest city in the One Land of the Kingdom, and is the most advanced in all domains._

 _-Standard Elementary School History Manual_

* * *

 **Why, hello there!**

 **Yes, this is an author's note, if you're wondering why I've suddenly gone all un-angsty. So, yeah, I know, I've got two other huge chaptered fics to finish (including another SnK one. Go check out "Die Ironie des Krieges" if you like WW2 drama/angst!), but I decided to put this one out as a taster. Depending on the feedback, I might put this one before the other SnK fic, or not, who knows! This is also a backlash to the writing of "Lone Wolves, Metal Horses" (probably not published at the time you're reading this), which takes place only in one place. I don't like that. I love the open country, travelling, and all that stuff, and a story that only takes place in one room bores me out of my mind (for that reason, I don't really like plays either).**

 **Anyway, this is going to be more or less plotless, and will contain far more romance than I usually like to incorporate into my fics. If you know of the series, this'll be a little like +Anima (plot and atmosphere-wise, that is. No, Annie won't be growing wings any time soon), but more grungy and definitely not very family-friendly. But you know me, no grapefruit! Maybe not even kisses. Nuh-huh. ("But how is that possible when this fic is tagged as romance, Oakwood?" I can hear you cry, but you just wait and see. And remember what the other genre tag is, although, I guess that if you're not already reading this on AO3, you can pop over there and spoil yourself rotten with the very detailed tags that'll be posted there.)**

 **At the end of each chapter, I'll be including a little extract from a text from this universe, usually to explain something going on in the chapter, but also to give you a better insight on this f*d-up world I created.**

 **Anyways, I'll stop spoiling the whole story for you. And this fic actually has a soundtrack! You'll be introduced to it soon enough, don't worry. ;)**

 **Have a good day, and don't forget to comment! It'll guide me for further updates.**


	2. Chapter 2: Urban

**Warning:** **this chapter contains mentions of prostitution, underage smoking (in some countries), domestic abuse, and neglect. I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin, and am using the franchise for a non-commercial work of fanfiction.**

* * *

Her breath formed little puffs of what could have been cigarette smoke, if only she had thought to bring such relief as a pack of cancer-sticks with her. Of course, she had brought her phone, which was now just as useful to her as the high heels that tore away at her tired feet, but still. She hadn't been thinking straight, and she was pressed for time.

She was now walking the streets, pulling along a half-full, expensive suitcase, a stylish coat with no hood that didn't keep much of the cold out, four-inch heels and shorts. Everything was colourful, showy, supposed to attract unwanted attention. But as long as she looked sure of herself and kept walking, she will be all right. She knew that from experience.

The night had fallen quite some time ago, and the chill intensified. Her stomach was now rumbling and the vitrine in the bakery that she passed by was brightly illuminated. The pastries gleamed like cream-filled jewels under the warm artificial light, and were probably in the same price range as well, from the looks of things.

But she had no money. Her stomach might be growling, but nothing she could do could fill it. Maybe she could offer her phone up in exchange for a bagful of stale bread?.. It seemed like a good deal in the moment.

She pushed the doors open, and the little bell above her head tinkled way too merrily for her current state of mind. She hadn't realised that this was some sort of snack-bar as well as a traditional bread bakery, and a lot of teenagers in their posh uniforms and bourgeois men turned to stare at her as she walked in, pulling her suitcase along as she went.

Her style and social origins did indeed clash with the ones of the other clients, but she didn't let it bother her. Her objective was food, and she was fairly determined to get to it. When she reached the counter, a man walked up to meet her from the other side, blond hair that was darker at the roots all too obvious, and smile too wide for his narrow face.

"What can get in exchange for this?" she asked, sliding the electronic device in its bright casing across the counter.

The man looked at it for a second, then turned to a revolving display-panel.

"Look, babe, it's tempting, but I need to respect the rules, you see."

He had turned the display to one of the sides where bright red letters were spread across the surface, but she didn't even try to decipher them.

"It says that we don't serve low-income workers, tanned and/or coloured people, and most importantly not prostitutes. Sorry, chick, nothing here for you."

"I quit. I'm not a prostitute anymore. Now can I have a sandwich?"

He just shook his head and went back to cleaning the fingerprints off his glass. Her fury increased tenfold by her hunger, she stormed towards the door, stopped halfway by a boy who was maybe a year or two older than herself when she was about to pull down on the handle.

"I'll get you food if you want, honey, if you do me a little favour in return."

The blonde looked at him with eyes of ice, and the youngster visibly squirmed under her gaze, regretting his earlier words.

"Tell you what; I'll give you some advice, for free: don't mess with me. You'll regret it."

And she left, leaving the place silent in the wake of the terror she inspired.

Once out on the streets again though, she sighed and slumped a little against the wall of the building. The exhaustion was slowly eating away at her, and the idea that she was now homeless in this huge, cruel city was not going to reassure her one bit.

The streets were lined with nice, old-fashioned street lights, and not a single human figure could be seen straying outside the posh tea and clothes shops with warm-looking interiors and nice vitrines. Snow had been cleared from the pavements and the roads had been salted, so nothing adhered to it, but the flakes still fell thickly. Soon, they were coming down so heavily that the lights she so desired to share in the heat of blurred and couldn't have been seen for what they were…

Something touched her arm, something warm, and she snapped out of her torpor immediately. There was a man, impossibly tall and very lightly dressed for the weather, looking at her with a concerned look on his face.

"Y-you were sleeping. You'll die if you do that in this weather."

She tried her frigid stare on him, but he only blushed and looked away. And that was then she saw his feet.

"You're barefoot," she pointed out dumbly. Her thoughts were addled, her mind slowed by the deathly slumber she had been snapped out of.

He shuffled around, still embarrassed. "Um, maybe it's best if you go home…"

"I don't have one," she snapped drily, maybe a bit more than she should have.

"Oh."

Again, the shuffling. And was that sweat on his forehead? And…

"What's wrong with your neck?"

"Er… that doesn't matter. Tell you what, you can share the shelter I made for the night with me. It'll stop the snow from getting in, and it's against the wall with the bakery's furnace, so it's warm."

She smirked, amusement giddying her strangely. "And what do you want in exchange? If I was ready to sleep with someone tonight, I would have chosen the other daddy's boy that asked me earlier on, he was offering a better deal."

He went very red at the suggestion and spluttered a little bit before getting his words out.

"I-I-I don't want any of that! I just d-don't want to see people die of the cold! This way," he mumbled, going down an alley that she hadn't seen before, adding, barely audibly "I'm only seventeen, anyway."

She held a scoff back just in time, but despite her mocking, she admired his courage. It took guts for someone to offer help so easily, when they obviously didn't have much of their own. Especially with her being, well, her own grumpy self, she supposed.

The place wasn't particularly dirty; no crawling rats or sewage in this kind of neighbourhood, just neat trashcans and piles of miscellaneous rubbish. Further on, there was a small structure made out of crates and topped with a dustbin-lid roofing on which the snowflakes fell and had already formed a small blanket.

"Well, this is it. It isn't much, and…"

She didn't reply, simply crawled into the place. She illuminated the inside of the den with her phone, and found it to be surprisingly large and cosy. It became definitely more cramped though, when the boy followed suite and folded his large frame into the space.

"I used your suitcase to close the gap, if you don't mind."

She didn't, but she decided that it wasn't useful to tell him so. Slowly, feeling came back to her extremities, and finding the hot rock that was obviously the side of the furnace this guy had talked about, she kicked off her heels and put her socked feet on the stone. It was heavenly.

"If I may ask, erm… what is your name? And is that a mobile phone?"

She had not realised she had left the flashlight of the device on. After all, it might be better if she had something to see by; she couldn't exactly say that she knew this guy.

"Annie. And yes, it is. If you've got any food to spare, you can have it," she answered, offering the same deal than she had earlier on to the shopkeeper. No reason she should deny this person an opportunity to make some quick cash either. And he probably needed it more, anyway.

He waved his hands around in the half-light, not shaking his head to say no, strangely enough.

"N-No, I'm sorry. I haven't eaten in a few days, either. It's difficult to find food that hasn't had bleach poured over it here, so I've had to go without."

Again, that dark patch on the side of his neck. She got to her knees and leaned in closer, not minding the proximity, and holding the light up for a better look.

"Wh-wh-what… No, wait, please…"

Not noticing the hands raised in defense and glossy eyes, she grasped his chin and harshly twisted his head to one side. He cried out, but didn't fight when she looked over his wound.

"Someone tried to slit your throat."

There she was again, Captain Obvious.

"When did this happen?" she asked, and she could now feel the trembling that wracked through his entire frame.

"Three days ago."

"And if I understand correctly, you haven't eaten anything in that time, either."

"No."

She felt a little bad at that. She was complaining about not having had any food for the last few hours, and this kid had been in the same position for way longer than her, and had been hurt as well, to top it all off. Then, she remembered something else she had taken note of earlier on.

"Three days in the snow… without footwear?"

He swallowed thickly, and whispered a "Yes," visibly terrified.

She let go of him, and pulled her suitcase out from where it acted as a door, letting a whistling draft in that chilled their little pocket of warmth in seconds. Opening it, she tried to remember what she had thrown in, before being confronted with a large variety of flimsy underwear.

Right, that was to be expected.

"Here, take this, it'll help keep it covered up, at least. Oh, and here."

She threw him a large orange and white scarf, as well as a pair of plain white socks, that would maybe fit him if they were stretched far enough. He looked at her with wide eyes, and pulling out a sheet she had taken from one of the beds, she brought it over to cover them both. She then crawled back to the suitcase, shut it, and put it back in position.

"B-But…"

"You're welcome. And don't get any ideas, it's just for warmth."

She huddled in close to him, insisting even when he shrunk back. He stayed stiff until she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, minding his wounded neck. He finally melted into the hug, putting his own arms around her back, resting as comfortably as they could with a raging snowstorm, a solid pavement underneath them, and only a sheet to keep their warmth from escaping their entwined bodies.

* * *

 _Laws in this country should be more developed. We are as advanced as we will ever be, yet children still have no rights. Education is only ever attained by those who don't have the bad luck of having their family working in a factory or field, and at least 70% of the population is illiterate. We may have maximum employment, but at what cost? Only a small number of our people, the nobles, the shopkeepers, the army, are offered a life other than one of a mindless bull at the grindstone. This has to change._

 _-Speech written by Hange Zoe, high ranking Men at Arms officer, spoken at the conclusion of a silent protest in the streets of Trost_


	3. Chapter 3: Urban

**Warning:** **this chapter contains mentions of prostitution, underage smoking (in some countries), mentions of drug and alcohol use, and a mugging. I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin, and am using the franchise for a non-commercial work of fanfiction.**

* * *

They were awoken that morning by a huge quantity of snow falling on top of them. It was a great shock, and very painful. Needless to say, they were awake in seconds and on their feet in even less time. They looked around, and saw that the cause of the sudden interruption of their lie-in was the owner of the bakery.

"Now, I've been putting up with you for some time now, but I'll have to ask you to get away from here. You're bad for business. Now scram, before I call the cops."

Annie didn't like being woken up suddenly. She was far from being an early bird, and this man had literally made the roof above their heads collapse on top of them with a shovel. She was going to rip his head off.

"Of course, sir," said the guy whom she had shared a shelter with that night timidly. "Come on Annie. Let's get our stuff together and go."

She gave him the most venomous look that she could muster, but listened nevertheless. Everything was quickly shoved into the suitcase, and they walked off. Once they were far enough, she gave him the same look again, and, unsurprisingly, he wilted beneath it.

"I-It wouldn't have been a good idea," he said, shaking under her gaze, thick droplets of sweat beading on his forehead and tracing lines down to the tip of his nose. "I n-need to lay low for a while…"

She nodded curtly, then gestured down a street that branched off from where they had been walking.

"Let's go this way. It leads to the Eastern slums, and I know some people over there that might help us get some necessities. And there are some fast foods over there as well."

They continued walking, the guy dragging a little behind. It was slightly annoying to Annie, the way he followed her like a dog, but she let it go. She had her back to him, but she was fairly confident that he wouldn't stick a knife between her ribs.

"What's your name, by the way?" she asked, not quite satisfied with the lack of that one piece of information.

"Bertholdt," he said weakly, sound muffled by the scarf he had wound around his neck and mouth.

"Too complicated, how can I remember how to pronounce that? I'll just call you Bertl, it's easier to remember."

She turned his way to judge his reaction, but she wasn't greeted with the horrified face that she had expected from the stupid nickname she had come up with. There was definitely something wrong with him.

His eyes were vacant from where they peeped past the coils of the scarf, and he was shivering from head to foot. His forehead and a good part of his hair was slick with sweat, and when she raised her hand to his cheek, he didn't flinch away, and she found it way too warm to possibly be healthy.

"Shit. Right, I'm bringing you to Isabel."

They continued walking, going past block after block of shops, that then turned to modest apartment blocks, to outright gross streets with cracked pavements and with every other window either broken or barred. They turned down several winding alleys, getting closer and close to their objective. They were only a few blocks away from their objective when Bertholdt collapsed in a dead faint. She quickly checked his vitals, surprising herself with the slight panic that took over her as she did so, but after confirming that he was indeed still breathing and his heart beating at a normal rate, she picked him up and half dragged, half carried him the rest of the way.

Finally, the red-painted door appeared before them, and Annie knocked at it with her free hand, the other hooked behind the boy's knee. She had to insist, pound at the wood so hard that the door rattled in its hinges before someone came to answer. It clicked open, only opening a crack, stopped by the chain that held it fast on the other side.

"No service today, go and check… Oh, it's you," said the woman's voice on the other side, her voice bored and drawling.

"Nice to see you too, Isabel. I would appreciate it if I didn't have to break my way in, 'cause you know I will."

A sigh answered her, then the door closed again, the chain clicked, and she opened it fully.

Annie stepped in, grabbing the handle of her suitcase, and pulling all her charges into the relative warmth of Isabel's place.

The other woman closed the door and double-locked it, then turned to Annie, her arms crossed and an indifferent expression on her face. Her red hair was held back in two sloppy pigtails, and she probably wasn't wearing much more than underwear under her faux white tiger print nightgown. Heavy makeup was smudged over her face from a night without wiping it off, making her seem like she had elongated lips and panda eyes.

"So," she said, stopping to take a puff from the cigarette that she was smoking, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling. "what brings you here? Apart from your passed-out boyfriend, that is."

"You wish," the blonde scoffed, unloading Bertholdt onto the dirty brown sofa on the other side of the room. "I could do with a favour or two, actually."

The red-head raised an eyebrow in her direction, unseen by Annie, who was busying herself by pulling a blanket on top of her sick charge and his scarf off. The wound underneath was red, puckered, and felt worryingly warm to the touch. "Oh, and why would I do that, then? Do I get anything in exchange?"

"Clothes," she answered distractedly, before turning back to her, accepting the cigarette and lighter she passed over. "You can have all my stuff, and I know you want it. Just, I need less conspicuous things to wear than these, and a way to get a doctor to look at my friend here. I'll even throw my phone in the deal if you get us both a decent meal."

She lit up, taking in a puff of the smoke herself. She sighed in relief at the instant nerve-calming effect the nicotine had on her brain, something that she had clearly needed for several hours.

"Fine, deal. You'll need cash for the doc though, and I can't give you any of that. And you'll have to hurry up for him as well, he's leaving for Shiganshina soon."

"Right. Where is he? I'm going as soon as I get Bertl sorted," she asked, walking over to the sink, picking up a random rag and wetting it with cool water from the sputtering tap. She walked back to the sofa and put it on Bertholdt's forehead.

"Down by the river, next to the yellow building. But why help him? This is not like you at all, Annie."

"He saved my life, and he's the kindest person I've met in a long time. I think he deserves it."

She then flew out of the room, leaving the red-head stunned and a little unsure of the whole situation.

* * *

It had been quite some time since she had last done this, and she hoped that she wasn't out of practice. She couldn't wait for night to fall to make some quick cash, so she needed to go back to her first source of revenue, when she still lived with her father.

She remembered the technique he had used, and the one that she now copied today. She had found the darkest alley that she could, leading onto a nearly deserted street, with about three pedestrians walking down it every hour. In her right hand, she held a flick knife, and the other she kept ready for grabbing whatever victim would pass her way.

In theory, if she had chosen the place correctly, the shadows should protect her identity, and the instant threat posed by the flick knife pressing into the throat of whoever was to be her unlucky victim would make them let go of their wallet faster than they would in other circumstances. The idea was to pounce quickly, but if possible to not do so if they wore any kind of light-coloured leg-wear. Those always meant trouble.

Annie didn't have to wait long before she heard the thump of heavy boots in the distance, getting closer and closer. The sheer proximity of the noise meant that the person was on her side of the street, so will surely fall prey to her trap.

The hand holding the knife trembled slightly, and it wasn't because of nerves. No, she was excited. The prospect of money, food, and saving the life of the one person she could now call her friend (how did that happen? If it was love, she would have said that she had fallen hard and fast, but this was friendship. Someone she knew she could trust. Even though she didn't know him at all -nothing apart from his name and age that is- she already held him deeply in affection. She loved this gangly, naïve boy like a brother, and despite the coldness she displayed around him, it didn't change how she felt deep down).

Her victim walked into her sight range just then, and in the microsecond she allowed herself before striking, she analysed his basics. Brown trousers, not white, check. Tall, muscular, but nothing she couldn't handle.

Quickly, she snapped her arm out and caught the man by the collar. Before he could register what was going on, she spun him around and slammed him violently into the alley wall, knife glinting and pressing against his throat, just above his mangy scarf, where a bead of blood formed and slid down the skin to wet the fabric.

"Money, now."

He stayed motionless, and she pressed her weapon a little deeper into his flesh.

What happened next, she never quite understood, even years later. The only explanation she could possibly come up with was that due to the stress, uncomfortable night, and lack of food her attention slipped for one crucial second, which under other circumstances would have surely signed her death warrant.

Suddenly, she felt the hard wall against her back, and the pained cry that she had nearly let go in that instant was muffled by the feeling of deadly metal on her throat. The roles had been reversed; the players dealt a different hand.

"Now _you're_ going to tell _me_ what you want my money for, so I can get it for you and have done with it."

 _What?_

He sighed, not letting the blade waver. "I'm offering you charity. A woman who resorts to armed robbery has to be pretty desperate. Come on, tell me and I'll help you out."

 _This is all just a big joke_

"Come on, I won't hurt you. I'm just making sure that you won't hurt _me_."

 _Well, I guess I'm in no position to barter. If what he says is true, what do I have to lose?_

"My friend is ill," she said quietly, well aware of every movement her throat made against the cold metal. "I need to pay the doctor so that he doesn't die."

She was released, but the knife was held well away from her so that she couldn't snatch it back. She looked at him warily, and he did the same with her. Finally, he talked.

"Is it true? I mean, you really do look like a cold-hearted bitch; it's difficult to believe that you have any friends at all. You sure it's not for drugs or alcohol or anything like that?"

"Would I have been able to attack you so successfully if I was off my head on something? And please, I may be a bitch, but I'm far from cold-hearted. And I can ask you the same thing. Are you really willing to pay for something and ask for nothing in return? This isn't some weird way of asking me to blow you off or something?"

"Hardly, babe," he smirked. "I'm not into girls. No, I've just got my fucking heart stuck to my fucking sleeve and no way of removing it, so please, let's go and get your doctor and return to your friend."

He strode off, and she followed, walking by his side.

"Can I have my knife back?"

"No."

"Shit."

He laughed openly, merrily rather than mockingly.

"You're welcome."

* * *

 _The Military Corps in the One Land of the Kingdom are separated into three distinct categories: The Military Police, sporting the Holy Emblem of our King, are the ones charged with the task of keeping order in the Capital and solving heavy matters such as murder and corruption in all the cities of the Land. They are the elite, the greatest that leave the different academies from between the three walls; the Border Police, who manage the different traffics that enter and leave the Walls, sporting the Wall-Rose with raised Spines; the Men at Arms, who manage all other matters across the Land, and keep law and order in all places excluding the capital and the important inner cities, sporting the Godspeed-giving Wings of Freedom._

 _-Standard Middle School Civic Studies Manual_

* * *

 **It seems like I always give our dear Bertholdt a fever in my fics. I don't know, it seems fitting, seeing as he's always so sweaty anyway. But I don't know why I always wound him.**


	4. Chapter 4: Urban

**Warning:** **this chapter contains mentions of prostitution, underage smoking (in some countries) and mentions of drug use. I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin, and am using the franchise for a non-commercial work of fanfiction.**

* * *

They got there just as the bespectacled man was leaving, big black bag held in his left hand and hat pulled low over his eyes, symbol of the trade.

"Sir! Please, we need your help!"

The tall blond had rushed over to the man as soon as he caught sight of him, but stopped short when he realised that he didn't know anything of the specifics of the person who needed treatment in the first place.

"Kid, I can't help if you go mute on me. What's the matter?"

The blond looked at her pleadingly, and Annie stepped forward, rolling her eyes.

 _Block-head,_ she thought, before giving the older man all the information he needed, while gesturing for him to follow her.

"My friend has a high fever and passed out from it. I put a wet cloth on his head, then rushed out immediately to find you," she said, receiving a sideways glance from the charitable blond for leaving out the mugging attempt, but she didn't bother answering it.

"Is there someone keeping an eye on your friend right now? He should be kept under surveillance, and the cloth changed regularly."

"Er, no, I don't think so, but I covered him up and made sure he was warm."

"Right. Is there anything else I need to know? Do you know what caused the fever in the first place, or encouraged it?"

They had been walking at a fast pace for a few minutes now, but Annie suddenly slowed right down, having gone a little pale.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you all right?"

Annie shook her head, regaining her composure, before setting off again.

"I'm fine, I just haven't eaten in a while. Yes, he's got a slashed neck which looks infected; hasn't eaten anything in three days, has been walking barefoot in the snow, as well as sleeping on the streets for around the same amount of time."

Another look from the Good Samaritan, a shocked face and a few mouthed words which seemed to spell out "And he's still alive?", whilst the doctor politely nodded, obviously used to treating the least fortunate people of this harsh world.

At last, they got to Isabel's door, and as before she pounded on it heavily for several minutes before anyone answered it. Again, they repeated the same charade with the chain and the threats, but this time Annie had to shove her away from the "two beautiful men that she didn't tell her she had brought over, why didn't you give me time to put my makeup on," and etcetera.

The room they emerged into had a lingering smell of what could definitely not be tobacco, mixed with the mouth-watering one of something that had been deep-fried. When she caught sight of Bertholdt though, she immediately forgot about the awaiting mass of greasy packaging waiting for her on the low coffee table, distractedly handing her phone over to Isabel on the way.

The doctor was already at his side, cleaning the wound on his neck and applying some sort off evil-smelling ointment on it. Annie came closer timidly, and delicately laid a hand on his brow.

It was still hot, but less than before. Getting out of the snow had obviously been a great improvement. She left the man to his work, only bringing a jug of water when it was asked of her. Isabel looked on the scene while puffing on a cigarette, her usual depressed gaze lost somewhere in space. The blond, on the other hand, seemed quite at loss, looking around the place in wonder while trying to hide his interest. His eyes kept going back to Isabel as well, and every time they did, he would inch away from her, obviously terrified of her revealing clothes and vacant stare.

Annie then returned her attention to the pile of high-calorie content food that stood waiting to be eaten, and she tore into it, nearly throwing up in her haste to the unexpected strong taste, but keeping it down and forcing more of the horrible carbohydrates down her throat. Isabel joined her soon, but only picked at a fry for the most part. The person she had tried to mug barely an hour ago decided on going up to the doctor and asking him if he needed any help, but he was dismissed with a grunt. Not knowing what to do with himself, he simply sat at the table, as far away as possible from the red-head, which was coincidentally right next to Annie.

"Can I..?" he asked timidly, pointing to a desolate burger peeking out from underneath a napkin.

"Knock yourself out."

He picked up the food and nibbled at it, eyes still darting nervously around the room. Soon, Annie was full, and the doctor got up and dusted himself off, turning to the group.

"Mister, Ma'am and Ma'am?..." he asked inquisitively.

"Braun, Reiner Braun," said the blond, militarily snapping to attention.

"Just Annie."

"Isabel Magnolia," said the redhead, flicking a stray strand of dirty hair out of her face.

He looked at them in turn as they answered, nodding as he did.

"I'll have to do a full body examination on my patient here, to check for further damage related to the cold and treat any open sores. I wanted to check with you whether I have the green light to do so, and also to warn you in case you felt uncomfortable about me doing so while you're still in the room."

Isabel laughed uproariously at this, whilst Reiner blushed a bright red and Annie remained stoic.

" _Me?_ You're asking whether _I_ would feel uncomfortable about seeing a naked man? Go on honey, I couldn't care less, I've got to get to work anyway."

And with that, the redhead got up and strode out of the room, snagging Annie's spotted suitcase on the way out. She soon reappeared in a skimpy costume blinding thanks to the sheer quantity of sequins sewn onto it, and a pair of Annie's killer heels.

"Here, I put as many clothes in here as could fit. And I also want the rags that you're wearing now, so change before you leave."

She walked out, addressing her a small wave. She obviously liked what she had been given. Good thing they were about the same size, Annie thought dully.

The doctor was now struggling with the difficult task that was pulling the imposing boy's shirt off, and Reiner was looking the other way, clearly embarrassed.

"Well, I guess he would have preferred to not have an audience if he were awake…" she mused, then made her mind up. "Come on, Reiner, let's go outside. I don't think you want to see Isabel's room."

They exited the small apartment, and the blond breathed a sigh of relief as they emerged into the cool, snow infused air.

"Virgin," she smirked, and he snapped his head around, the blush touching his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"Th-That's not true! Well, it is, but… urgh. Look, I give up. Just, kill me quickly or something, so I don't have to suffer your presence any longer."

"I will," she added, her smirk turning into a softer, amused smile. "…only if you give me my knife back."

"That's still a no, I'm sorry to say."

She sat down on the doorstep, not minding the cold anymore. The food had helped her a lot in regaining her lost energy, and the flimsy coat she had on now seemed to be enough of a protection against the bite of the wind. They watched a cart go by, the flashlights taped to the sides of the horse's harness only managing to illuminate the road a few feet in front of them, in this part of town where working streetlights were rare.

"How did you meet him?"

Annie looked up, catching a glimpse of Reiner's face in the moving vehicle's light. He didn't look like he was joking around anymore, and his features had set into a hard, thoughtful expression. Even though he looked like a man, she saw the boy that was still there, the "foot he still had in the darkness of his mother's womb", as another girl had once expressed, a person from the far East who had brought her strange phrasing and poetry back from her home-land. In truth, he mustn't have been much older than Bertholdt. And he had also proved he had a kindness akin to his, as well.

 _Not again,_ her weary mind told her, but she couldn't do much about it. She was developing affection like others would a rash, or fell in love, as she had thought earlier on. She didn't know where it all came from, maybe her recent act of courage when leaving the brothel had had more of an impact on her psyche than she had first thought. But the more she thought about it, the less likely she deemed it to be. No, if not she would have thought the same thing of Isabel, and that was far, far from being the case. They were two people who had helped her, accepted to stick around and offer support despite her personality, even though they would get nothing in return. Bertholdt could have left her to die in the cold, and Reiner could have slit her throat or called the cops without ever having to deal with her again, but they didn't. They were, in this world led by a majority of rotten or sour apples, the sweetest pair of the bunch.

"He gave me a place to stay in yesterday's blizzard. He had a den, and he offered me a space in it when he saw me falling asleep in the snow. He saved my life, and I gave him a pair of socks and a scarf in return."

"Well, isn't that generous," he scoffed lightly, but not unkindly, just to shed a little humour on the situation.

"How about you? Isn't there anyone who'll be worried about where you are at this time of night?"

"Nah, I'm on the run too," he said, then quickly rectifying himself, "not that I'm a criminal, or think that you are or anything, but I needed to get away. You know, space. Permanently."

She hummed in understanding. It was fine to have that feeling, she knew it well herself. "Going anywhere in particular?"

"No. Money won't last me long, so maybe I'll do some street performance and get some cash from my music. Or maybe I'll head south, do some farm work."

"You haven't planned this out well, haven't you."

"No," he admitted a second later. "But I'm sure I'll get by. I've got my zither and my voice, and I'm strong as well. That'll work for the most part in my favour."

"I hope it will."

Another silence, that dragged on for a little too long.

"Can I have my knife back, now?"

"No."

"Damn it."

* * *

 _Throughout the centuries, travelling practitians of different sorts have developed trademark signs in order to let the common man know of the services or products they provide. The spice merchant would use a saffron-coloured bag to hold his wares, whilst the farrier would display a horseshoe on the back of his cart. All these are quite obvious, which brings on the question of the origins of the more obscure ones. The road-bound doctor, for example._

 _For as far back as recorded, this has been a tradition held by these people of the medical world. The wide-brimmed black hat can vary in shape and size depending on the wealth, specific origins or personal preference of the said doctor. Yet, most surprisingly, only people offering to deal with diverse ailments would use this sign. Other, more specific travelling medical staff-such as nurses and dentists, for example- would wear either a white lab coat or a stethoscope permanently looped around their neck._

 _After much research, I have retraced the origin of this practice back to a time before the Walls were raised (may those who lived in those Dark Ages be pitied and their souls be prayed to, for not having known the Grace and Majesty of the Holy Walls!), when a cult long extinct comprised of many doctors would have worn the hats as part of their everyday attire._

 _-A Study in the Traditional Garments of the People of the Walls, Peaure_

* * *

 **I might have shrinked Isabel a bit, now that I think of it. I think that she was originally a little taller than Levi, therefore taller than Annie. Ah well, deal with it, it's for plot purposes.**

 **Also, if you combine certain attributes of Reiner from this fic and from "Die Ironie des Krieges", you'll get a character who is strikingly similar to an old friend of mine. I don't know why I associate these two, but in reality (and in canon, in Reiner's case), they're far from being even slightly alike. Ah well, "this is a work of fiction, and all resemblance to a real person, dead or alive, is entirely coincidental" works, right?**


	5. Chapter 5: Urban

"Do you think that it's all right if I stay here for the night?"

The doctor had finished his work, and once Reiner paid him, he went on his way back to Shiganshina and his family.

Annie had first been surprised that the blond hung around for a while longer after having fulfilled his promise, but then remembered that he didn't have anywhere to go, either. This was by far one of the better deals if he wanted to sleep away from the cold tonight, not having to pay for a room that wouldn't be in much better condition than this one anyway.

"Guess so. It's Isabel's place, but I doubt she'll mind. She won't be back until tomorrow morning at least. Just stay close, I don't know what she'll do to you if she caught you alone anywhere in here."

He obviously remembered the vacant stare the red head had had when looking at him, and he nodded, visibly shivering as he did. Turning her back on him, Annie made her way into the unseen depths of the tiny, crass apartment to retrieve bedding and cushions. Once back, she shoved an armful into Reiner's fumbling grasp, and set herself up, leaning against the foot of the couch, by Bertholdt's head. She wanted to make sure that he caught sight of her as soon as he woke, so that he didn't freak out over the new place (he seemed like the kind of person to do that sort of thing). Reiner, after hesitating for a second, followed suit, sitting near the feverish boy's feet, keeping a safe distance between him and the short blonde he secretly feared. She quirked an eyebrow in his direction, but didn't comment.

Even though the place was not heated, it was a great improvement on her previous sleeping arrangements. She snuggled as deeply as possible into the thick quilt she had pulled off her acquaintance's bed, relishing in her own body heat that was reflected back towards her from the material.

She had always been a light sleeper, for some reason that may not have been unrelated to her father. She would spend long evenings haunted by insomnia, laying spread-eagled and wide-eyed in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, sometimes getting up to smoke, just to break the monotony of it all. But here, she felt herself dropping off, despite the cold and the fact that there was a stranger in the room, one that had a knife, _her_ knife at that. Blaming it on the long and horrifyingly emotional content of this day, she succumbed, renouncing a battle that wouldn't bring on anything good if she did win it, either way.

* * *

For the second time in two days, she was awoken by something way too heavy falling on top of her, the difference being that this one pile of "snow" was bony, squawked an apology as soon as they did, and quickly retreated after having crushed both her and Reiner, who had slumped so that his head was nearly resting in her lap during the night. She got up nonetheless, deciding that now that everyone was awake, she might as well clear the confusion that the two boys were subjected to, fumbling in the dark in an unknown place.

She got to the corner of the room where she knew there was a light switch, and flicked it, shielding her eyes against the sudden blinding neon that engulfed the whole room. The sounds of movement stopped for a second, to be replaced with the ones of groaning at the scorching of pupils. Thanks to her previous precaution, Annie recovered from the onslaught quicker than the two others did, and was therefore greeted with the very strange sight of Bertholdt, who had a leg hooked behind the back of the couch, while the rest of his body twisted awkwardly upside-down, spilling off the sofa and onto the floor. Reiner's eyes were the next to adjust, and a mildly bewildered expression crossed his face as he regarded the antics of the taller boy. He was trying to right himself, but he had somehow become stuck in his current position, and was weakly trying to lift his upper half back onto the dislodged cushions. Annie was about to end his suffering and give him a hand up, but, surprisingly, before she could take a step back towards the centre of the room, Reiner got to his feet and pulled Bertholdt up by the armpits so that he was sitting up more comfortably, no longer falling to the floor.

"W-what, wait where am I? Who are you? Annie?"

His eyes had focused onto the shorter blonde, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and a slightly panicked look on his features. He had a hand pressed against the adhesive bandage on the side of his neck, and his eyes would sometimes flick nervously to Reiner, probably not reassured much despite the latter's easy-going smile.

She took a step closer to him, raising a soothing hand, which he cringed away from. Getting the message, she let it fall by her side instead, but still advanced with assurance towards him.

"Bertl, you had a fever and I had to bring you here. This is Reiner, he offered to pay the doctor for you," she said, gesturing to the blond, who stuck out a hand for him to shake. He hesitantly did so, observing the other wearily.

"How do you feel?" he asked, voice calm and steady. Bertholdt melted, the voice soothing him enough to make him smile timidly.

"F-fine. Um, thank you."

"You're welcome. Hey, you known, you're pretty tough for a skinny lad."

The "skinny lad" blushed and pulled away his hand, burying deeper into the blanket he had been sleeping under. They were quiet for a moment, before Bertholdt spoke through the layers of fabric, voice slightly muffled.

"Where are we?"

Annie perched on the sofa's arm, bringing her legs up and hugging them close to her body. Reiner sat on the couch, minding Bertholdt's feet.

"At a…"

She was halfway through her sentence when she was suddenly interrupted by a loud banging at the door. The three of them jumped to their feet immediately, Bertholdt and Annie both hyperaware of their surroundings, whilst Reiner just looked at them dumbly, following suit.

"The Military Police are here to arrest Annabel Fiona Leonhart, on the charges of assault and murder!"

Both the boys looked at her, and she murmured back tersely: "My pimp. He tried to sell me to his perverted douche of a brother. We need to get out of here, now."

Quickly and quietly, she grabbed her suitcase by the handle and started moving towards the rooms she had visited the night before in search of blankets. Bertholdt followed close on her tail, whilst a very pale Reiner closed the march.

They walked down a hallway, which stopped in a dead end.

"What's the meaning of this?" Reiner hissed, furious at the confusing situation.

He was answered with a glare, before Annie dropped to her knees and started pulling the floorboards up. They came loose in one large square, a few having been nailed together to form some kind of trapdoor. She dropped the suitcase in the hole thus formed, before going through it herself. It wasn't as deep as it first looked, because the boys could still see the top of her blond head from where she had landed.

"You waiting for hell to freeze over or what? Hurry up and get your arses down here if you don't want to be caught!"

Bertholdt complied first, lowering himself slowly into the small cellar, then bending down to disappear somewhere off to the side. Reiner looked at them, unsure, but he made his mind up when he heard the front door being broken down and the heavy stomp of military-issue boots on the creaky floorboards.

He tried dropping down, but he had forgotten to take his shoulder-bag off first. Panicking, he heard the shouts of the MPs, as he struggled with the stuck item that kept him from joining the others in the security of the dark.

"Just, go!" he whispered, panicking and pushing away Bertholdt, who was trying to untangle him from the leather strap holding him back. He felt a slight touch on his chest that he didn't take notice of in the immediate, focused as he was with trying to keep the taller boy from putting himself into the dangerous light, which would mean his arrest and possible death.

Suddenly, he fell the half foot or so to the beaten earth ground, and in the last glimmer of light that shone through before the trapdoor was closed by Bertholdt, he saw Annie, a gold halo of mussed hair around her head, and in her hand the knife he had confiscated off her the day before.

She had pickpocketed her knife back as subtly as if it were a breath of air doing so.

For a few minutes, they remained quiet, while they listened to the pounding boots right overhead, holding their breaths high in their lungs, trying to quieten the beating of their hearts. Finally, when she decided that the MPs were far enough away from them so as not to be suspicious of their presence, Annie caught hold of someone's sleeve in the darkness, and tugged gently on it. Her eyes were slowly getting used to the pitch black, and she could faintly distinguish the silhouette of her second companion. The one she was guiding (she couldn't make out who it was yet) understood and pulled the other by the wrist so that he followed as well.

She didn't have to move far to find what she was looking for. The metal plate made a teeth-grittingly loud noise when her foot accidentally collided with its side, and one of the boys hissed in fear. She ignored it, and as she had done many times before, moved the heavy plate to one side to reveal the darkness beneath. It was deeper than the one where they resided, in the weird cellar-like space beneath the row of houses, but she wasn't daunted by it in the slightest. Once they were down there, they would be safe.

She dropped the suitcase down the gaping hole, not caring in the slightest for its contents. Then, she pulled a little more firmly on the sleeve she was holding, bringing the person to whom it belonged closer.

"Climb down," she whispered, gesturing to the hole and pointing at the faint glint of the ladder, just about visible in the half-dark. He hesitated a little before moving towards it, confirming the fact that this was Reiner rather than Bertholdt. She had that boy wrapped around her finger since she met him, and she knew that at least while they were still in danger, he would listen to her every order attentively. Reiner was a little more reticent, more independent, but he still did as he was told. Somehow, she had turned into the leader of this little group, probably due to her experience and her natural authority. She wasn't going to take advantage of it though, she 'loved' them too much for that.

The blonde was the last to climb down the rusty old ladder, pulling the heavy cover back above her, making as little noise as she could. About halfway down, she was hit with the heavy stench of raw sewage, but it didn't bother her that much, really. From the number of times she had been down here, she had had enough time to get used to it. She was a little surprised when a light was switched on at the bottom, but that mystery was solved when she joined Reiner and Bertholdt on the wide concrete walkway next to the sluggish stream, the former holding a torch, searching through his bag.

"Found them! They might be a little small, but at least you won't have to walk barefoot anymore."

"I'm not sure… are you sure you don't mind?"

"I prefer to not have to carry you if you get ill again. Here, take this as well. It's kind of chilly here."

Annie watched the interaction between the two boys, Reiner handing a pair of red trainers and a blue sweater with a low neckline, and Bertholdt accepting them, an embarrassed blush on his face visible even in the low light. She smiled. It may not last long, but she was happy to see that they were getting on well.

They turned to her when she walked towards them, heading for the suitcase that they had pulled over to a drier spot than the one where it had landed. Reiner was right, it was cold here, and she still hadn't changed out of her light outfit. She was stopped by the boys' stare before she could get any closer though.

"What?" she snapped.

They looked at each other, seeming surprised at their synchronisation, before directing both their pairs of eyes back at her.

"We need to talk."

* * *

 _Electricity has been around for about three hundred years to this day. The great sea-bound power stations provide the whole Land of the Kingdom with all the power needed, and it is one of the most convenient inventions to have ever blessed our people. Before its discovery, gas or candles were used as a light source when needed, but were both likely to set fire to their environment, and killed more than they saved. Electricity serves not only the purpose of lighting, but also allowed the invention of many other useful artefacts, such as the mobile telephoning device and the refrigerating closet._

 _-Of the Great Inventions of the Last Thousand Years, Peaure_

* * *

 **The second name is totally made up, I just thought that Annie would make for a good Fiona (a "Shrek" Fiona though).**


	6. Chapter 6: Urban

Bertholdt, after giving both his and Reiner's opinion in a voice that surprisingly didn't stutter, dropped his gaze to his newly shoe-clad feet. He admired Annie, he really did, maybe more than anybody else he had ever known, but he was still terrified of her. Maybe the confidence he had worked up was to do with her presence, he couldn't be sure. Still, he was legitimately worried.

After a few seconds, his eyes were drawn to her again, still waiting for some sort of reaction from her. She was looking at Reiner, with whom she was having a not-very-intense staring match, giving him nothing more than a tired, unamused look.

"Fine. My story isn't nice, but I can't blame you for wanting to know more of it."

"Yes, well, we were being chased by the MPs, so maybe you could care to elaborate a little more. I didn't leave my home to be immediately locked up for helping a murderer."

She glared at him again, likewise without much conviction. She sat down heavily on her suitcase, sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

"Go on, officers, ask me whatever. I won't hold back."

Bertholdt backed up nervously, but Reiner kept his determined attitude.

"Ok, you killed someone. Who, where, why?"

"It was an accident, I swear. Well, sort of. Anyway, he died after I left the place; I'm pretty certain he was still alive when I walked through the door."

" _Elaborate_."

"There's sometimes trades that take place between pimps. Despite the human trade ban, there still is some of that stuff going on. We sometimes get a say in the matter, but sometimes we don't. My case was the latter."

"So?"

"He wanted to stop me from leaving. I smashed his head into a brick wall."

Reiner let out a shuddering sigh, shoulders sagging and eyes closing as he took it in. There was nothing but silence for a few seconds, before Bertholdt decided to speak up, the tension getting to him.

"But… what now? If the MPs managed to find this place, they… they probably know that you're not alone."

"Anyway, we're stuck together until you can lead us out of here," Reiner tagged on, sweeping his flashlight around the place, catching the glint of water and a few rat's eyes. "We're not leaving the same way we came, and I don't know about you Bertl, but I don't think I'll be able to get out of these sewers without a guide."

He nodded in agreement, turning back to Annie. She shrugged, getting up from where she sat and flipping the suitcase onto its side. "I guess that's it then. Now give me a bit of privacy, I don't think it's the right time for me to get ill."

Both the boys walked towards a bend in the corridor, Reiner snatching up his bag as he did. The broken strap dangled as he held it under his arm like a bag of flour, useless until repaired, Bertholdt reflected.

"Uhm… Reiner?" he asked, twisting his hands a little.

The blond stopped and looked at him, grunting for him to continue.

"I could… maybe… I can repair your bag for you. To thank you. For the clothes."

"If you can, I would appreciate it. It's leather, mind you, not easy to stitch…" he said, unconvinced, but handing the straps to Bertholdt anyway, keeping his grip on the heavy item. They were out of Annie's line of sight, and had not walked any further down the tunnel so as not to get lost. When Reiner had shone his torch down the long passage they had emerged into, the light had not even been able to reach the other end, whilst the ceiling seemed lower and walls closer than in the space where the ladder they had come down was installed. Bertholdt felt a little bit of claustrophobia creeping up on him, but ultimately ignored it in favour of the task at hand.

Quickly, he knotted the two loose ends together, the operation not even taking a few seconds to complete. He tugged on it for good measure, and found it to have the required tightening effect.

"This should work, for a while at least. Uh, it might wear thin after some time, but…"

"It's perfect! Where did you learn how to do these weird knots?" Reiner interrupted again, pulling the strap over his head and putting the bag back in its previous position by his side. It fell a little higher than before, but that was to be expected with the strap's shortening.

"Uh… A fr-friend," Bertholdt said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. He looked up, and saw that Reiner was staring at him intensely. He dropped the gaze quickly when his eyes were met, but strangely enough, no tension arose from the exchange.

Reiner breathed in deeply, grimacing when he realised his mistake when he found himself stuck with a lungful of sewer air, and Bertholdt couldn't hold back a chuckle at his slightly green face and disgusted expression. Finally, the blond let the air out in a huff, looking intently at Bertholdt again, holding his gaze this time.

"You know…" he started, before stopping and fiddling with the strap of his bag, marvelling hand running over the complicated knot. "I think there's something about all this. Can you feel it too? The… how can I word this? Atmosphere? Relationship…"

"Yes," the taller boy replied. "Yes, it's like… I've never been like this before around other people. I'm not stuttering. Not as much, anyway. Not with you, not with Annie."

"I don't think I really want us to part ways when we get out of this mess, you know."

"Me neither. I trust you both."

"I trust you, too. It's crazy; I've only known you for a few hours, but I trust you. You've been through so much shit, and you survived, and I admire you for that."

There was a short silence, before Bertholdt replied.

"Thank you. I appreciate that, and I-I think the feeling is reciprocate. I..."

" _I_ think we should get a move on," came a voice from behind them, and they both spun around, caching sight of Annie in a too-large shirt, a pair of high military boots, but nothing covering her bare legs.

"Annie, what in..."

"But first," she interrupted, holding up the white trousers she held in her hand for them to see. "We'd better find a way to make these look less like stolen military gear."

* * *

In the end, they had decided on leaving the more blatant pieces of equipment in the suitcase, and otherwise modifying the rest to look closer to normal civil wear. Annie cursed quite colourfully for a while after rooting further through the garments she had been given, only finding old military gear, some of which was closer to the boy's sizes rather than her own. The only explanation that she could come up with was that she used to be some kind of relief woman for soldiers back before she moved to the city, and that she had brought back these "souvenirs" of the men she had known back then.

Still, that wasn't the problem right now. As the same Eastern woman who had told her the weird womb saying before would have reflected, the ants knew how to get through this kind of situation better than men did: in stead of finding someone to blame the problem on, they concentrated on solving it in the most efficient way possible instead. That girl really had some wisdom in her, she thought, puzzling over the fine embroidered logo of the Wings of Freedom on one of the pieces of clothing.

"Well, it'll be a bit of a shame ruining such fine fabric, but I guess we can rub some dirt into these," said Bertholdt, snapping her out of her musings of the past. That was another thing ants probably didn't do, dwell on the past for stupid amounts of time.

 _That's because they don't have a brain,_ snapped the part of herself that automatically always corrected the other half of her conscience. _They don't have to regret things that they can't remember._

She smiled to herself, proud of her own frame of mind. She looked down to Bertholdt, squatting next to the open suitcase. He was holding up a very recognisable pair of white trousers and was silently looking at her in questioning. The fact that he managed to keep her gaze without dropping his own was surprising, to say the least, but she accepted it nevertheless.

"Go ahead. There are so many in there anyway, and I prefer that than being looked at weirdly if we walk around in broad daylight with these kind of targets . Oh, and that other pair, on the right? You can keep those. If I were to wear them, the legs will probably still drag on the floor even if I pulled them up to my armpits."

There was a scoff from a little further off, probably Reiner at the absurd imagery that she had managed to convey in those few words. She decided to ignore it. He will pay for that later.

"Th-Thank you."

Ah, the stutter. She had wondered where that one had gone.

"No worries, you'll need a spare pair at some point anyway. Just leave them in the suitcase for now if you're not going to put them on straight away: I'll be In charge of it, I'm the one that asked for the swap with Isabel anyway."

The underlying meaning of this was of course the fact that she didn't want Bertholdt to strain himself after having been through so much, even if it meant that she had to carry a relatively heavy suitcase around by herself without break.

Fortunately, he didn't argue, instead hastily getting to work on the trousers. He used drier waste rather than the water to get the glowing piece of fabric to the right level of filthiness, so that Annie would be able to wear it immediately instead of having to have her wait for them to dry.

"You'll ha-have to be careful, and take a shower and dye these properly as soon as you can. Clothing infected with sewage waste isn't the most hygienic thing to wear, but you'll have to deal with it until we find something else."

"It'll do for now, you're right. I suggest that we get a move on: we've got the MPs on our tails, and it's only a matter of time before they find us, even if they don't find the concealed panel in the floor. Sewers are a very popular escape route, so they'll probably come down here just in case."

Immediately, Bertholdt closed the case and zipped it up, while Reiner gathered the boots Annie had taken off in order to put the trousers on. She did so, the boys looking away while she quickly pulled them over her legs, making Reiner turn around and give her the boots by poking him harshly to get his attention.

"Oi, that'll bruise! Why did you do that?" he complained, rubbing the sore spot on his upper arm that had been affected by the pitiless index.

"Nothing."

Reiner looked at her unbelievingly, opening his mouth, ready to reply, before thinking better of it and shutting it instead. He looked off towards the end of the sewer he and Bertholdt had gone down earlier, gazing towards the bend in thought.

"If the MPs were to come from a side, which one would it be?"

"Probably not that way," Annie replied, catching on to his train of thought. "They would go for the closest entry that they know of, and it's some way North of here. That tunnel leads South, towards the edges of the city, where there are less people. They'll probably think that we would want to lose ourselves in a mass of people rather than make ourselves more visible in a more open area."

Bertholdt got up, pulling the suitcase along with him before handing it off to Annie, joining their group stare into nothingness, into the future, perhaps.

"Do you think… we should maybe leave the town altogether?"

"Yes. Get on the first train out, and travel to another part of the Kingdom. It's too dangerous here."

"We'll leave together then. None of us have any attachment to this place anyway."

And with that, they made their way down the tunnel, the one that maybe will bring their freedom.

* * *

 _The Military has, for as long as a Holy King or Queen has been on the throne, worn similar uniforms. The green cape is the one attribute that marks the difference between the Men at Arms' uniform and the ones of the other Corps, supposedly dyed that one colour when in the ages of old, they were required to blend in with the trees when chasing enemy troops in the forests, a responsibility that would never befall the Military nor the Border Police._

 _The light brown jackets were known to be shortened around the time of the invention of the 3D manoeuvre gear, when several incidents of the long fabric getting caught in the gears were reported, and a consequent number of soldiers killed due to the malfunction. High boots were also introduced, so that soldiers landing and falling to their knees would not bruise them beyond use and tear their delicate cream trousers._

 _This last important part of the required outfit has been around for as long as the Military itself, and their use has long been debated, sometimes to the point of nearly succeeding in banning the colour. Indeed, it seems to be contradictory to the camouflage effect that the capes would have, and the fabric which is used to make them is expensive and difficult to take care of. A few consistent theories as to their existence have been reported, from being an indicator of an individual soldier's obedience (indeed, they are required to be immaculate at all times), to a symbol of the purity of the Royals they serve. But by far, the most amusing of all is the idea that they are a test of courage to the ones that wear them. Numerous stories of high ranking officers checking the breeches of their privates after a first mission for signs of bowel failure has been circulating for years amongst the Army, and has even to this day never proven to be true or false._

 _-A Study in the Traditional Garments of the People of the Walls, Peaure_

* * *

 **Added a little Reibert fluff here to give the tag a purpose, I suppose. Hope you enjoyed it, anyway.**

 **And yes, this chapter is dedicated to our not-so-April's-Fool celebration of season 2! At last! We've been waiting so long for it, and the first episode is definitely up to scratch (even though the opening is… weird, I guess?). Anyways, I'm not spoiling it any further for you, just get a hold of it as soon as possible.**


	7. Chapter 7: Urban

Reiner was certain that if he were any less committed to increasing his muscle mass when he was younger, he wouldn't have been able to go on for so long without stopping and resting his aching back. In hindsight, a messenger bag maybe wasn't the best idea for transporting the amount of stuff he had brought along with him. Sure, he was more used to it than any backpack and it had been his loyal companion for years, but he never had to carry it around for such extensive periods of time...

Suddenly, Bertholdt stopped directly in front of him (Reiner was taking up the rear of the group, a little to the side so that everyone could have a little torchlight to see where they were going), making Annie spin around immediately and himself rush forward to his aid.

"C-Can we just stop for a few minutes?"

No complaints were issued, both he and Annie having made an agreement to protect their friend and take care of him until he got better. And indeed, even if it was a little difficult to tell in the harsh electric light, he did look quite pale. Annie nodded, and Bertholdt slumped against the tunnel wall. Reiner watched him regain his breath for a few seconds, before remembering something that made his blood run cold with worry.

"Bertl, did you have time to grab something to eat before we set out?"

He looked confused for a second, apparently questioning the presence of food at all in the place he had spent the night, and slowly shook his head. The blond sent Annie a knowing look, who nodded in response.

"Right, next exit we pass I'm going up to get you some food."

"Reiner's the best person to do this," Annie interrupted before Bertholdt could protest. "He looks fairly respectable when compared to us, and he's got the advantage of not being actively researched. Well, I hope so anyway. Isabel's likely to have ratted on us and given the MPs full description of us. Definitely mine and yours anyway."

Again, Bertholdt looked confused and maybe a little worried, conflict flitting across his face, visibly debating whether it was a good idea to argue Reiner's decision to put himself in the open for him, but probably considering that he was in no position to debate, he let it drop and held on to another detail that bothered him instead.

"Isabel...? Who...? Why would she do that?"

Annie huffed, but not out of annoyance. From her expression they could tell that she was very angry, and for a second Reiner thought that it was directed at Bertholdt, before he realized that her target was more likely Isabel. Or maybe society in general.

"Look, she was caught keeping a murderer safe in her apartment. Knowing the MPs, the 'I wasn't there' excuse probably won't work, and she'll be wanting to cover her arse by collaborating. I can't blame her, even though I have to say that I wouldn't do that if I were in her shoes. Anyway, it means that she has a fairly precise description of all of us, but maybe a little less so of Reiner, because she barely saw him for a few minutes."

Bertholdt sighed, but didn't move, visibly exhausted. "All right. Just… I-it's better if you change your clothes though. At least they m-may not recognize you immediately. And d-don't go up with that huge bag, it'll slow you down if you have to make a quick escape."

"Yeah, he's right. Here, take a jacket."

Reiner hesitated for a second before handing his bag over, not sure that he wanted to give up everything he possessed to these people. Common sense still dictated that they might not be trustworthy, but it only took a second for the strength of the bond he felt with them to dissipate that feeling. He trusted his gut, and it told him that his possessions wouldn't be harmed by them.

The bag was given to Annie, who carefully pulled the strap over her head and knelt down to get to her own suitcase. She pulled out a jacket, one that would have without doubt swamped her, but that Reiner felt to be a tight fit on himself. It would just have to stay open, despite the cold weather.

"Right, I don't know when I'll be back, but if you consider it too long a time, go on without me. And please, take care of that bag for me, even if I don't come back."

"Understood," Bertholdt answered, at the same time as Annie's clipped "You'll be back", more of an order than anything else.

Reiner smiled weakly at them, then hurried on. Time is precious, particularly in these circumstances. The two others started moving again, but more slowly. He had left the flashlight with them and he had instead pulled out a small mp3 player to light his way. The screen's back light didn't illuminate much of the road ahead, but it was enough so that he didn't fall off the edge of the pavement bit he was walking along to fall into the dirty canal that ran the whole length of the passageway to his right. The two other pairs of footsteps quickly faded behind him, the lack of weight on his back allowing him to pick up a more swift pace. Soon, he came across what he had been looking for, the glint of fairly-new metal reflecting the weak light he held out in front of him.

Reiner gave the ladder a shake, trying to determine whether it was well soldered to the wall, before carefully making his way up to the surface. There was a faint light coming from a circular hole in what must be a manhole cover, surprisingly not as far off as Reiner had thought at first when he bashed his head against the heavy metal covering. Once he had recovered from his aching brow, he heaved and pushed the cover effortlessly to one side.

The early afternoon light was blinding, even more so when reflected off the snow drifts that dotted the sides of the courtyard he had come up in and covered the rooftops above completely. Fortunately, it wasn't actually falling at the time and the courtyard was apparently well taken care of, the proof being that he didn't need to push off several pounds of snow along with the weight of the round metal lid he now set down carefully, not dropping it back into the fitted hole completely so that he didn't have to break his fingernails prying it out if he had to make a quick escape at a moment or another. He stood up completely when he was done, looking around, making sure that there wasn't anyone watching him, before walking off.

The blond didn't know the place well, but he walked purposefully as if he had lived in this part of the city since he was a kid. He kept track of every turn he took, always keeping an eye out for landmarks that wouldn't be covered in snow in the event of a storm. Eventually, he came across a street that contained a handful of shops instead of house after bleak house, and there were even a few people walking through it as well, all with thick coats and huddled in expensive woolen scarves. It didn't seem to be too expensive an area though, the small grocery store looking like the place his family used to be able to afford getting things from back when… back when.

An elderly woman walked slowly around a corner, and Reiner braced himself before deciding that it was now or never. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders up to his ears, his scarf covering the entire lower half of his face.

It was something he had never thought he would experience one day, this gut-wrenching terror that he would be found out, arrested, and carted off to some far-away place, a place where he would be denied what was most important to him. He wouldn't be allowed his music, his freedom, to one day see his brother again… and something else. It didn't surprise him that after a few seconds he realised that this something were his new found friends. As sad as anyone else may find it, he accepted fully that these near-strangers were now as fully part of his life as his thrumming musician's soul, and that it would pain him beyond measure to never see them again.

He pushed the door of the shop, a shiver traveling through him at the temperature change. It was warmer in here, not only because of the heating, but also thanks to the shelves of densely packed produce that acted as insulation. His eyes traveled quickly over the aisles, looking for something that would act as a cold yet substantial meal for their little troop, as well as some other long-lasting products so that they didn't have to risk coming out in the open every time they got too hungry to hide.

By the time he got around to the till he felt a little sick, disgusted by the sheer quantity of food that there was available here, and yet knowing that none would go to the countless people who suffered hunger like both Annie and Bertholdt had. When he got there, he balked however when he saw the little girl sitting on the high stool, her eyes unseeing. She must have been about nine, but he could see from her blank expression that she knew too much of this world.

Reiner set his stuff on the counter, where the girl rung him up without a word. Snatching up a spun sugar candy from the side display, he added it to the pile. When she had finished and he had handed her the money, he left the candy on the counter, as if he had forgotten it.

It was only a small act of kindness, but he felt that it was important. He just hoped that she wasn't too broken as to actually put it back on the display rather than taking advantage of the situation and letting her child instincts have her eat the sweet treat that lay before her. His arms full of groceries and his head of thoughts, he nearly collided with the person passing him on the street. The man stepped to the side, and Reiner brushed past, just missing him. Turning around to apologise, he quickly changed his mind when he caught sight of the famous Wings of Freedom adorning the retreating back.

His mind was yet again set whirring, hoping that it the individual he had just passed by was only a soldier on leave rather than part of a whole squad of the most capable class of military that were stationed in the city. As he quickly walked in the opposite direction than the man was going in, he rounded a corner and found himself inexplicably face-to-face with a noticeboard.

The groceries fell in the snow, his grip lessened by shock. There, between the old, faded poster of criminals long-wanted but never arrested, was a face that he recognised instantly. Reiner snapped out of it, looked around furtively, before tearing off the still recent poster and shoving the crumpled paper into his pocket. All the food was picked up, and he found himself next to the manhole thrice as fast as he had been on his trip up. The groceries were dropped directly down the hole, the dull torch light enough for him to know that both his friends were down there waiting for him, and he slid down the ladder, pulling the metal cover as best as he could over him as he did.

Both Bertholdt's and Annie's faces were ashen when he found himself in the circle of light; one was gathering the foodstuff together wordlessly, whilst the other sat in the corner on the suitcase, cradling Reiner's bag in his arms and his drooping eyes showing his exhaustion.

"I found this when I was up there," Reiner said without preamble, shoving the poster in Bertholdt's face. "I thought that Annie was bad enough for hiding stuff from us, but you're being a hell of a lot more hypocritical than I thought if you've got an actual bounty on your head. Annie's murdered someone, and there was nothing for her."

A number of emotions passed on Bertholdt's face in the next minute, become more and more pronounced as time went on. He gasped, opened his mouth to say something, seeming panicked and flustered and sweating so much that it became concerning, before finally it settled in something halfway between mute terror and resignation.

"I… I d-didn't do anything. I-it's j-just… someone w-wants me dead, a-and they've g-got contacts with the h-higher ups."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, but Bertholdt had kept eye contact with both Reiner and Annie (who was looking over Reiner's shoulder at the poster) during the short sentence he had managed to utter. Pleading had replaced the fear he had displayed earlier on, something that made Reiner think that maybe even if the explanation seemed patchy, the boy in front of him wasn't lying. He didn't believe that he would be one to commit any sort of crime, or not intentionally at least.

"I'm not sure, Bertl. I was honest with both of you earlier on, so I would like you to be the same here. I know I'm the one who dragged you in the same boat as me here, but I think we'll both appreciate it if there's something else that we didn't take into factor before that."

He finally lowered his gaze, fiddling nervously with the end of the scarf that Reiner had given him earlier on. Torn was too weak a word to describe his body language, his mannerisms in that moment when his face was hidden from sight. Bertholdt's shoulders slumped after a while, and he sighed deeply.

"I-it's my m-mother. She really, r-really hates me. W-well… w-without me, she w-would probably b-be part of the K-King's court. I th-think that she j-just used me r-running away as an excuse t-to finally l-launch a manhunt a-against me…"

"That's pretty fucked up," Annie said I her usual monotone. "At least my dad loved me somewhat. Hey, I dunno about you Reiner, but this story's good enough for me."

Reiner and Bertholdt's gazes crossed again. Again, that pleading expression pushed the blond to think that what he was saying wasn't a lie, but there was more to it there than what met the eye. Well, it was the same thing with Annie, he guessed, so there shouldn't be a reason for which he should have a different approach on Bertholdt. And of course, he trusted him, deeply, and he could see that it was the same for him as well.

"Right, yeah. It seems unlikely to me, but I'll believe you anyway. Bertl, you're safe with us, and whatever you've been through, we'll do our best to not let it happen again. As Annie said, we're all in this boat together, and I think that if we stick together, we'll get through this somehow. Now let's eat, I'm starving."

On that note, they started their meal, munching wordlessly but in a companionable silence, trust and gratefulness making them all relax and be perfectly content with each other's presence.

* * *

 _You can be considered as an adult if one of the following conditions are fulfilled:_

 _You are above the age of eight years old_

 _You have passed a government test of maturity and have been recognised as adult_

 _You have been accepted into one of the three factions of the army (who we remind do not accept people under the age of fourteen) and completed the training program fully_

 _A company has been under your own management for over a year and hasn't been in a precarious financial situation during that period_

 _You have been officially recognised by at least five of the adults of the community as being mature enough to hold responsibility for your actions_

 _-A guide to citizenship in the Land of the Kingdom_

* * *

 **The girl's from when Sasha goes back to her home-village and saves her, but not her mom. You know, the one with no hope left in her eyes.**

 **Also, I thought that it was more logical to have 'adults' be people considered as mature rather than based on their age: in the series, all the 104** **th** **are between 15 and 18, and they definitely can't be called children anymore. In this AU, I don't think these rules should be changed.**


End file.
